


violent delights

by Rosyredlipstick



Series: AFTG Fics [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Western, Alternate Universe - Westworld Fusion, Canon Compliant Violence, M/M, Temporary Character Death, Violence, [whispers] they're all robots, mentions of abuse, some gore, well most of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 08:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15044633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosyredlipstick/pseuds/Rosyredlipstick
Summary: Become what you have always wanted to be. Here, fantasies come true. Here, you can chase the life you have always wanted. Thanks to our refined hosts, any and every one of your desires can be filled. Here, you can leave your world behind. The hosts cannot harm you. The hosts cannot stop you. Here, you will face no consequences. Here, you can live without limits.Welcome to Westworld.-Every morning, Neil Josten woke with the sun. He would part his hair to the side, dress in a blue that brought out his eyes, and head towards town for his afternoon groceries. The rest was up to fate. Or, as the townspeople called them, the newcomers.





	violent delights

Neil Josten woke in the morning with the sun, parted his hair to the side, and dressed in a blue that brought out his eyes. He would gather his few things, untie his horse at the stable, and ride into town to collect food for that night’s dinner.

Today, he thought, would be a well-spent day.

* * *

The townsfolk, as always, liked to stare.

Not all of them, not those who knew Neil as himself, but the bundled up bursts of out-of-towners, in their new, clean gowns and suits and freshly washed hair and skin right off the train. They were always there, smiling too widely and asking too many questions, and had been around as long as Neil could remember. They were from out of town, and they had been here as long as he could remember.

Danielle, the madame from the bar, waved her fan at him as he passed, a small smirk in place as she perched in the sheriff's lap. Allison had been keeping tabs on Nicky’s latest gamble on a romance happening between the two, and it looked like she’d been right. Matthew had always had a soft spot for her anyways, despite what Nicky had been pushing.

Neil nodded back at them but didn’t pause even as Matthew lifted up his whiskey glass in clear offer. Perhaps he would join them another time, but his afternoon routine was not one that he strayed from easily. He didn’t dwell on the thought.

He gathered his few things from the general store, nodding at Allison from her perch at the counter as she read over the latest news from the North, and paid with coin before packing up. Fox was tied up at the front of town with a few other horses, drinking from the water Matt always made sure was freshly filled, and would be satisfied until the heat became too much. He had a few hours, at least.

A few officers were collecting men for an out of town venture to do their monthly checks around the mountains, mostly just for the bad kind of folk who tended to hide in those parts, but from their lack of interest, it would probably be put off for another day. Neil could already hear Matt's low complaints.

He turned to pack his things into his shoulder bag, resting for a few moments from the heat, and when he was finished he saw a familiar face in the near distance.

Renee was a godly woman, and that was enough for Neil to mostly steer clear of her soft, genuine smiles and well-worn bible pages. She turned to pack up her bag, her groceries held to her chest, when a can fell from her hands and rolled into the streets. Neil bent to collect the can and met her halfway, holding out the item without a word.

Renee stood, her blue dress brushing the dirt, and gave him a small but warm smile. “Thank you, Neil.”

He tilted his hat down in respect, a movement that happened without much thought.

Renee tucked the can into her bag, turning to look over her shoulder. “How have you been? The weather been kind to you?”

"Kind enough," he only said, never much up for small talk conversation. He turned his head where a small group of newcomers were gathered, staring. Before he could stop the words, a question bubbled up, low. "What do you think of this place?" If anything, he felt it proper to trust her judgment, even if he didn't seek out her company.

Renee went quiet for a moment, but her gaze didn’t shift towards their obvious company. Her eyes remained cleared and on his own.

“Some people choose to see the ugliness in this world, the disarray.” Renee finally said, “I choose to see the beauty. To believe there is an order to our days. A purpose.”

“That is one way of looking at it,” Neil told her after a moment, “it’s very…”

“Optimistic?” She finished, flashing him a quick grin. “I’ve heard that before.”

Neil was interrupted in his response at sudden commotion at the edge of town, people freezing and muttering amongst themselves as a pair of shadows dipped and danced across the dirt as their owners stalked forward. Neil, frozen for a moment himself, leaned against the building wall and allowed himself a small moment of coy emotion.

“The Minyard bandits,” Renee told a pair of newcomers, her voice clear as she responded to one of their questions. “They won’t bother you if you keep to yourself.”

"Keep to yourself," Neil repeated, his gaze still trained on the pair of brothers. Infamously known, their matching faces hung from every wall and door of the town. It was rumored one of them had killed their own mother, and later followed it up with the family that took them in as children. It was also known, slightly less infamously but known nonetheless, of their fondness for the small Palmetto town. Mostly for their cousin who resided in the area, and for younger brother's not-so-secret liking of the farmer's daughter Kaitlyn, but also, well -

“Hey,” Neil called out as he stepped forward from the wall, just as the sheriff was standing from his place inside the bar, as the twins strolled casually into view. Both twins jerked towards him in slight surprise, both gazes laced with varying amounts of annoyance. “You makin’ trouble?”

Andrew, from under the tilt of his leather hat, shot him an annoyed look and barely seemed to contain whatever vulgar gesture he'd picked up from the West. Before either of them could respond, Matt made his entrance known, his hand resting on the pistol at his waist.

“Gentlemen,” Mat gave them each a critical look, even as the out of towners gawked at the action. A few people came to peer at them in question. “Care to state your business?”

Andrew clearly wasn’t going to speak up, obvious from the bored, blank look on his face, leaving Aaron to step forward, his hands held up in peace.

“We’re here on personal matters,” Aaron said, tipping his hat towards Nicky, who was coming out of Allison’s store. “Cousin.”

Matt seemed content, for the moment at least, to let the scene play out as Nicky stumbled forward off the storefront and in front of his cousins, satisfied with the knowledge neither of them would harm the other man.

After a long moment, Nicky let out the breath he’d seemed to be holding onto forever, stepping forward to throw his arms around Aaron, and made no move to repeat the action with the other twin. “You two are giving me grays,” He muttered into Aaron’s leather, pulling away after a moment as Andrew shifted in warning.

Nicky pulled the other twin away, shooting a knowing glance at the Andrew as he tended to slip away once they were in town, and headed towards the Saloon. Knowing the older man, he would be treating Aaron to a few whiskeys until Kaitlyn was done with her afternoon chores.

Andrew shot him a bored glance, moving to follow Nicky and Aaron into the building. With his few groceries tucked away safely in his bag, Neil gave Renee a friendly wave as he followed.

Andrew was waiting at the inside door of the building, leaning against the wall as he smoked a stick of tobacco. At Neil’s arrival, he blew a puff of smoke into Neil’s face.

Neil waved off the smoke and leaned against the mirroring door frame, facing the other man even as the light colored smoke gathered and curled from his mouth.

“Hey,” Neil tried to keep the breathlessness out of his words, but there didn’t seem to be much use. Maybe he could blame it on the smoke. He tried again. “You makin’ trouble?”

Andrew only shot him a bored look as he took another drag. “Always.”

Neil finally broke out into a grin, “You came back.”

“I don’t lie.”

Neil hummed, a smile still in place, before Andrew rolled his eyes and crumbled the tobacco stick. He took a table, glaring away its only occupant, and cut Neil a look. “Get us some drinks.”  

Neil stood and shot him a look over his shoulder but complied, weaving through the crowds of out-of-towners and drunkards and the few of Danielle’s girls who insisted on flirting before letting him on his way. Finally, he made his way to the front of the bar, where the bartender already had their order pouring.

“You still shackin’ up with that scoundrel?” Wymack, the owner of the bar, grunted out even as he set out matching tumblers of whiskey. Neil shot him an unamused look as he took the glasses and took them back to their table.

He set one of the glasses in front of the other man, turning to face him with a grin as he sat down. “Steal me anything nice?”

Andrew scoffed, pushing his face away. “As if you deserve anything nice after all the shit you make me put up with.”

Neil hummed, taking a small sip of his drink. Not too much - Andrew didn’t like when he drank too much before the afternoon began, and neither did Neil if he was honest.

“You did always like dressing me up,” Neil offered in turn, as well as giving the other man a glimpse of the pendant hanging from his neck. The Minyard symbol, known mostly for chaos and trouble in their parts, hung from the string on a pressed metal coin. Andrew had thrown it at him after his last night in town, right when he was leaving before dawn with a promise to return, when Neil was still sprawled under the sheets. Allison had easily enough drilled a hole into the piece and wound soft leather string through it in return for an easy win on the bar’s latest gamble, which Neil couldn’t fault her for.

Andrew’s eyes remained on the coin pressed between Neil’s fingers for a moment too long, always his tell, before they flickered back up to Neil’s slight grin.

Andrew tipped back his remaining drink in a smooth movement before standing, hardly shooting Neil another look even as he copied the movement. Giving him only a glance, Andrew muttered out a low, “Let’s get out of here.”

He followed the other man’s lead, and Andrew knew enough to automatically lead him to where Neil had tied up Fox prior. Rolling his eyes, he mounded second, tucking himself in close to Neil’s body, and ignored his cousin’s whistle at the action.

Neil had been spending much too much time inside his small broken down shack these days and settled on a stroll through the fields, mostly because he knew Andrew would have his complaints about it but would come nonetheless.

Also, because the fields were completely deserted at this time of day.

They found themselves a tree, nice and shady and hardly on the edge of anyone's property to keep them alone, and Andrew allowed Neil to ask him questions about his time away They picked through Neil's few groceries, the idea of making dinner suddenly so incredibly unappealing now that the other man was here.

"Where did you go?" Neil popped a chip of jerky in his mouth, which Andrew completely ignored in favor of some of the dried fruit pieces.

“Away,” Andrew told him, never into details about his time off from Palmetto. “Wherever the trains are heading, mostly.”

Neil nodded, taking it in. Andrew was usually off for weeks at a time, returning for a few days a time if Neil was lucky.

"Let's run away," Neil told him like he always did. After a pause and a quick nod in return from Andrew himself, Neil settled on the other man's lap, his ankles tucking behind Andrew's back in familiar motion. Another moment later, Andrew tossed both of their hats to the side, like he always did, and ran his hand through Neil's hair until it was a mess of flames.

“You and your running away,” Andrew muttered in answer, “Palmetto’s good to you. And the Sheriff would have tears for months if you left.”

“Matt would hardly notice after a week,” Neil rolled his eyes, “I’m tired of sitting around Palmetto.” As he spoke, his hand went to the coin around his neck, rubbing at the print as he spoke. “I’m tired of being without you.”

Andrew swallowed as his eyes followed the movement.

“You’re not real,” Andrew’s voice was just slightly too soft, “you’re a pipe dream.”

“Of course I’m real,” Neil frowned, “what else would I be?”

Andrew leaned in, “Yes or no?”

Neil was so close that with only a twitch of movement their lips would be brushing. “It’s always a yes with you.”

"Don't say stupid things," Andrew told him, just before their lips finally crushed together in the amazing heat Neil had been craving since the moment the other man left.

That field, and those kisses, and the other man's heat mixing with his own - Neil didn't know another thing sweeter. Although, if he were to ever voice this thought, Andrew would no doubt have an eye-roll and sarcastic comment for him.

Neil bent down to press his lips to the underside curve of Andrew's neck, just to taste the dip of skin there, and Andrew could in no way stop the shiver that wrecked his shoulders in response. Instead, he could only pull Neil back up for another press of their lips, a flick of his tongue, a tease of biting teeth.

Neil smiled against his lips, and it only took a few moments for Andrew to reach up and flick his temple. But he didn’t pull away.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving them huddled a bit closer for warmth in the cold but their faces still pressed together nonetheless, when they broke jerked apart at a sudden interruption. Even over their panting breath, they could still clearly hear what had surprised them.

Violent, gore-driven sounds called out from the field they had come from, where Neil had left Fox tied up with a bag of feed, where they could now just barely hear the noise of angry men. There was a cut through the noise - the screech of a wounded animal, of a horse - and Neil stumbled forward in his movements.

“They’re slaughtering Fox!” Neil rushed forward, his pistol already drawn and ready as he ran across the field, Andrew silent but steady at his back as he followed at equal pace. A scream joined the violent sounds, high and feminine and terrified. They jolted to a surprised stop. 

They were on the edge of the Walker Farm - Renee’s house.

Before he could warn and tell Andrew - the two were good friends, after all - the thought and words were rudely interrupted before they could form by the tell-tale click of a pistol, and the barrel pressed against the back of his head.

Neil froze in place, his hands slowly rising empty, and he was pushed forward before he could turn. Andrew, at his side now, was given the same treatment albeit rougher.

“Walk,” A voice behind them demanded, metal digging in at the back of his head. Neil did so, mostly because there wasn’t much of an option, until they were both lead to where the group of men were congregating. In a brief moment, under the darkness, he shared a quick, tense look with Andrew. The other man shook his head once, his mouth smoothed out into a line.

The men - who, they could now see with the dim light from the Walker house were dressed in dark colors and rouge - began cheering as a struggling woman was dragged out of the front of the house. Neil’s chest filled with dread.

Renee was thrown to the ground, her light colored dress soiled now with dirt and blood and god-knows-what-else. There was a cheer as she fell to the ground and her dress fell upwards, and she struggled to her feet. From just inside the small house, Stephanie Walker could be seen sprawled across the wood, a dark stain spread from her turned away face. At the sight, Renee let out a series of loud, desperate sobs.

“Get her out of here,” One of them gestured towards the distance, where the men seemed more than happy to drag her off into. Her screams followed the action, and Neil struggled to keep his gasping breaths under control.

The bandits, Minyard rivals from their cocksure gait and anger filled gazes, looked down on them as they were both pushed to their knees, their arms forced behind them. When Neil tried to look over at Andrew, his face was forced back forward by his hair. After only a few moments, the clear leader of the pack emerged from inside the small house, dim light illuminating his figure against the darkness. When he spoke, the joy in his voice nearly made Neil sick with it.

“We heard a rumor the Minyards had some favorites down in Palmetto,” The man grinned, large and cruel, blood evident on his teeth. “Family, friends, and…” His eyes were crazed as he pulled Neil up by the hair, his breath hot and wet on Neil’s cheek. “Some they’re sweet on.”

"Let him go," Andrew told the man through clenched teeth, pure unhandled anger stripping along his words. "He has nothing to do with this."

"Ah, but doesn't he?" He reached out a hand to trace Neil's jawline, his skin dirty and rough, and Neil's hair was still being held in place, preventing him from jerking back. "After all, isn't he one of the reasons you and your brother fought your way back here, going as far to cut down my people by the packs?" The man hummed, patting Neil's cheek twice before pulling away. "Speaking of your brother, our sweet Lola is taking care of him and his sweetheart right now," Andrew had gone impossibly stiff at the words, his eyes dark and dangerous even as the multiple men tightened their hold on him, "She'll take real good care of him, don't you worry."

Andrew began in earnest to break away from the arms holding him back, grunting in pain as one of them dug the barrel of their gun deep into his shoulder, a threat from their lips into his ear.

The man ahead of them, the leader, grinned as if it was a show. "You've got some grit in you, Minyard." He flicked the other boy in the head, mocking. "I guess the stories were true." His eyes slowly slid back to where Neil was knees, his eyes flickering over each man as he desperately tried to pull together something of a plan. "Stories about your sweetheart seem true as well." He tilted Neil's chin up, even as Neil jerked his face away the man kept it in place by digging his nail into Neil's neck. "Pretty as a flower, with hair like flames and eyes like sky. A boy of nature. I bet he tastes just like sugar -"

Neil gasped as gore and blood suddenly covered his face, as the back of the man’s head burst all over Neil’s front and he fell forward into the earth. Neil’s arms were quickly released as bullets began to fly. Andrew, only a few paces back, jumped to hold Neil to the ground.

Even as the ringing shots faded from the air, Andrew remained pressed at his back. Each of the rival bandits dropped to the ground, each gasping and grunting in pain if they weren’t already gone, and a man dressed in all black rose from the shadows.

"Oh, Nathaniel," The man said, his rifle taking hardly a moment's pause before turning on to where Neil and Andrew were just beginning to stand. Renee's screams had tapered off during the gunfire, and he was trying not to consider what that meant. "Having some fun without me, huh?"

“Let us be,” Neil tried, even as Andrew pushed himself in front of him. “Just let us go. You’ve had your violence for one night.”

The man _tsked_ , “You of all things should know, I’ve never had my fill.” He flashed them a shadowed grin, the dim light just barely lighting up the white of his teeth. “Especially when it comes to you, fox.”

“Fuck you,” Neil only hissed before pulling back the handle of the pistol and shooting off an array of perfectly aimed bullets.

Unlike the bandits who had dropped to the dirt immediately after the shots rang through the air, the dark dressed man continued to stand across from them, unimpressed.

“I never understood why they paired some of you up,” The man remarked, tipping his hat slightly up to expose his face. Neil, for all his running, had never seen this man before in his life. “For the dramatics, I assume. Not much fun winning if no one loses.”

Neil continued to shoot his pistol, unbelieving, until the gun clicked empty. He stared down at the gun, then the man, in horror.

“Oh, Nathaniel.” He only clicked his tongue, almost as if in pity. Andrew only pushed Neil behind himself in response, posed and tensed like a snake ready to strike. The motion only continued to annoy the other man further.

“Oh please, Minyard.” He sighed as if impatient, “Why don’t you just hand him over and we’ll leave the action for another time?”

Andrew didn’t budge from his place blocking off Neil, only growing somehow tenser. After a moment of this stare-off, Andrew finally spoke. “Who are you.” That same flat tone was in his voice, “El Lazo?”

The man scoffed, “That generic comic book villain? Please.” He sighed like the question was ever-so-troubling. “It really is annoying having to introduce myself everytime I see you.” After his words, ones that neither Neil nor Andrew fully understood, he gave them a bored look. “Riko Moriyama. It’s my pleasure, really.”

Moriyama? Out of all the names the man could have named, it had to be one that Neil had absolutely no idea about. He tightened his grip on his useless gun.

“This storyline’s shit,” Riko added on, wrinkled his nose as he adjusted the safety on his pistol. “Why the fuck do they think I’m interested in seeing some far-fetched bullshit love story? Nathaniel, the mob boss’s son, now that was my favorite. And at least the runaway plot was interesting. This?” He gestured towards the both of them with the barrel of his gun, “This makes me _nauseous.”_

“We have no idea what you’re talking about,” Neil breathed out, “You must be mistaken. Let us leave and we’ll tell nothing about what we’ve seen, please.”

Riko rolled his head in the lazy motion, “Now Nathaniel,” his voice was exasperated, “what have I said about speaking out of turn?”

_“My name is Neil -”_ He could only get out, right before Riko pointed his long rifle into Andrew's face and pulled the trigger without a second thought.

“Oh, shut up.” Riko rolled his eyes at the immediate, horrified scream that ripped itself from his throat, as Neil fell forward and scrambled towards the other man as if to help. “You should be thanking me for not dragging out that stupid face off.”

“You _killed_ him,” Neil sobbed out violently, cradling the other man’s bloody and ruined face, his right eye completely blown through. “Andrew, no, _you_ _promised -”_

Riko let out a bored breath, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. “Don’t you ever get any new dialogue assigned?” He sighed, as if something tragic, but didn’t hesitate in his rough grab under Neil’s arms to begin dragging him away. Neil only let out another sound of grief as he was pulled away, and as Andrew’s face fell roughly and limply to the dirt he fought roughly against Riko’s hold.

Riko pulled away for only a moment, taking out the pistol from his side and shooting Neil without a considering moment, directly into his hip. Not enough to kill him - Riko was intimately familiar on what exactly that took for this exact host - but enough to Neil to stop struggling so fiercely.

"Oh, Nathaniel." Riko's grin was as sharp as the blade tucked away at his waist, even as he dragged the gasping and bleeding man behind him towards the unassuming abandon barn in the distance. After throwing Neil into the pile of hay and kicking the doors shut behind him, he turned towards the array of rusted tools and farm instruments. "This is just the beginning of our fun."

* * *

Neil woke in the morning with a gasp, the sun barely risen behind the rolling hills, parted his hair to the right, and dressed in a soft blue that brought out his eyes. He would gather his few things, untie Fox at the stable, and ride into town to collect food for that night’s dinner.

Today, he considered, would be a well-spent day.

-

He collected his few items for Allison, absentmindedly rubbing at his sore hip, and lingered for a few moments of rare conversation with the shopkeeper as she folded down her newspaper to share the latest gossip.

Outside the shop, an out-of-towner helped Renee with her dropped groceries, pausing and lingering in sight of her bright, beaming grin. At the outpost where the officers were gathering scouts for a bandit check venture, a hearty group of newcomers volunteered loudly for the day trip.

Seeing no reason to linger in town after collecting his supplies, Neil and Fox made their way through town, helping a few out-of-sorts few newcomers who remarked greatly upon his red hair and blue eyes. One of the woman, a brunette with extravagantly curled hair and rouge on her cheeks and lips, insisted on inviting him into her private room. 

And Neil, simply, had no reason, no will, to turn her down.

“You things sure know what you’re doing,” she laughed as she pulled back her hair and spread amongst the sheets. Neil stiffly dressed and parted his hair out of his eye. With rough scratches down his back and dark bruises to form on his neck, he left for home before the sun had fully even set.

* * *

Neil Josten woke in the morning with the sun, parted his hair, and dressed in a blue that brought out his eyes. His back felt odd and stiff, but the skin was unmarked and smooth, not even a bug bite in sight. He would gather his few things, untie his horse at the stable, and ride into town to collect food for that night’s dinner.

Today, he hoped, would be a well-spent day.

-

“They won’t bother you if you keep to yourself,” Renee was telling a few newcomers with a reassuring smile as a trio of suspicious looking thieves cut through town, and Nico froze suddenly at the words, Renee’s can still held in his hand. It had rolled into the street after she dropped it and he’d brought it over for her but - but this was familiar, somehow, something that his muscles knew better than his mind.

“Are you sure about that,” Neil asked her, too quiet for her company to overhear. She paused, a clear indication she had heard his words, but didn’t answer right away. Turning towards him, her usually clear eyes were clouded. “Excuse me?”

Neil shook his head, looking off into the distance. “Are you sure that they won’t bother you if you keep to yourself?”

Renee stared at him for a long moment. Her guests seemed to be bored with their quiet conversation and drifted off, leaving them alone. Finally, she spoke, and it seemed to be more than the simple words they were. “No. I’m not.”

In the distance, a newcomer and Seth, always in trouble and anger, fell into the motions for a shoot off. Somehow, Neil already knew what would happen.

He and Renee continued to share their troubling, hollow stare, even as the shots rang out and Allison’s piercing scream followed. They needed to leave, get out of the streets. Trouble brings trouble.

Despite this, neither Renee nor himself moved from their place, and when the second wave of trouble followed, they were only broken apart as their bodies were caught in the crossfire and they fell together to the dirt. On both of their chests, red stained blue.

It was probably nothing.

* * *

When Neil strolled into town, Fox already tied up as he went for his afternoon groceries, Allison’s store already had a line out the door as newcomers stocked up before their afternoon ventures. Sighing, Neil resigned himself to the idea of a later shopping trip and instead dipped inside Wymack’s bar to wait out the line. Danielle waved her fan at him as he passed, perched nicely in Matt’s lap as she ran her fingers across Matt’s jawline. The motion, oddly, ran a chill up his spine and he forced himself to turn towards the waiting bartender.

"Just a beer," Neil nodded at him as he slid over the coin, and the older man was quick and sure in his movements before setting down the hearty glass of chilled drink. Neil nodded in thanks and took his first sip.

“There’s commotion out there,” Wymack nodded from behind the bar towards the glass window that took up most of the far wall, “Matt, you better check it out. Rumors of the Wesninski gang are startin’ to spread this way.” Despite the intense heat, the name brought an intense chill to his body, little bumps raising along his arms. It was probably nothing.

Neil didn't bother to turn to follow or watch the spectacle as Matt stood and went off - whatever it was would probably resolve itself without bringing too much trouble to Wymack's beloved Saloon, and that was enough for him. Without thinking about it, his hand rubbed at the raised metal imprint under his shirt. He took another drink, ignoring the noise going on outside the building. It seemed to clear up easy enough, or so Matt's calm tone drifting in from outside told him. Soon enough, Wymack's doors were squeaking back open, a new pair of boots joining the familiar ones on the wooden floor.

“You a drunk now or something?” There was a scoff as the seat next to Neil was suddenly filled, and Neil had to press down on his surprise. “What, I leave for barely two months and now you’re desolate?”

Neil bit down the grin trying to take over his face and turned towards his newest companion. Taking a slow sip of his beer, he ignored Andrew's annoyed look at the gesture. "Maybe I'm grieving over my latest pretty face," he offered if only to watch Andrew's slow, blank blink. "I've an exciting life in Palmetto."

Andrew scoffed and stole the rest of Neil’s drink, not like he fought particularly hard for it. Setting down the empty glass, he gestured for Wymack to fill it up before shooting Neil a blank look. “Must be why you’re always trying to get me to run away with you, huh? All that excitement?”

Neil stole away his drink as Wymack set it down, taking the first sip before passing it back. Andrew only shot him an unimpressed look before drinking it down.

“Why are you back in town?” Neil asked, “You makin’ trouble?”

“Always,” Andrew answered, something almost like a grin crossing his face.

Neil hummed. “I guess it’s my job to keep you out of it, then. You can help me grocery shop,” Neil shot him a grin, “I’m making stew and bread tonight.”

“There’s all that excitement you were telling me about,” Andrew told him, sarcastic even as he picked himself off the stool and followed Neil out the building. “You’re buying a tin of hard candy.”

“Deal,” Neil told him, despite the numerous other tins Andrew had left in Neil’s cabinet over their time together. Neil would never eat it, and Andrew knew that. Maybe if he kept buying it, Andrew would keep having to return for it. He could hope.

“You’ll be here in the morning?” Neil asked that night after stew and drink and enough kisses his lips remained slightly swollen.

Andrew looked away, his face pushing into their shared pillow. The sheets covering their bodies were slightly scratchy, but they were warm and dark and served to separate them from the rest of the world.

“Where else would I go?” Andrew muttered, but it sounded like a promise.

* * *

Neil woke in the morning alone, as always, with the sun. He parted his hair out of the way and dressed in a blue that someone once told him brought out his eyes. He would gather his few things, untie Fox at the stable, and ride into town to visit the general store for groceries.

Today, he felt, would be a well-spent day.

-

That afternoon, after Neil had bought his groceries early, he decided on checking in with Wymack and Danielle with a rare visit. Matt was in on his usual stool with Danielle already in his lap, grinning and waving her fan at him as she passed. Looks like Allison’s gambles had some truth.

Wymack served him up his beer, a nod in return at Neil’s coin, and turned to serve up the rest f the waiting patrons. Newcomers, it seemed.

“The Minyard bandits are back,” Matt sighed after a bit of time, standing and already cocking back his pistol. His few officers stood with him. “Let’s see if they’re making trouble today.”

Neil turned at the words, a grin already on his face, when he froze at the dual sight of them. The Minyard bandits, dressed in dark colors with their matching darker morals, cocked out their matching guns and grins, not even fazed by their new company as they sauntered into the Saloon. Matt watched them go off with suspicious eyes. 

Andrew grinned widely from his arrogant stance in front of Matt, a high laugh on his lips. His dark hair fanned out from under his hat, framing his tan skin and stubble

Neil frowned down at the bar, the glass of beer shaking in his hand. Why did this feel suddenly so wrong?

“You okay, kid?” Wymack gave him a concerned look, even as he poured out a few glasses for a group of newcomers.

“I’m fine,” He answered automatically, even as he forced his gaze away from the pair. Their laughter was rough, obnoxious, and seemed to fill every piece of comfortable silence in the Saloon. He hated both of them on sight.

He clenched his grip on his cup as Aaron, with darker hair than his companion, grabbed onto one of Danielle’s girls before pulling her close. The other Minyard man followed his example.

A flash of gold from outside the window had Neil jerking back his gaze, just in time to barely miss the owner turn the corner.

“Someone new?” He asked Wymack without turning to face the older man. “A new worker?”

“Nicky’s new stable hand,” He grunted, “some drifter he hired off the road.”

Neil stood, leaving his half-filled drink at the bar, and couldn’t explain how or why his feet seemed to move without much thought towards the worker. He was dressed in cheap, faded field clothes, and strangely that felt wrong. He didn’t look like much, a few inches shorter than Neil himself, but Neil oddly knew better.

“Hey,” Neil called out to the man, turned away from Neil as he began to refill the oats and water out for the town horses, “you makin’ trouble?”

The man turned, and Neil’s breath was pushed out of his chest in a moment.

He gave Neil a blank look, and when he spoke his voice was desert dry. “Always,” he replied, holding up the half-empty bag of oats in explanation. There was a joke there, but Neil felt miles too breathless to reply in turn.

“Name?” Neil couldn’t help but ask.

“Andrew Doe,” The blond man didn’t bother tipping his head forward, only giving Neil a bored look. “And you?”

"Neil Josten," Neil couldn't help but stare at the other man, with his blond hair lit up from the sun, his eyes going whiskey clear with the light. Everything felt so incredibly familiar, and he was absolutely certain it was probably nothing. "Do you want to have a drink?" He couldn't help but ask. Maybe it was his eye color or his general self, but the other man couldn't help but bring the taste of whiskey to the back of his throat.

Andrew gave him an obvious look, gesturing with the oats can hanging from his hand. “I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

Neil hummed, oddly disappointed. Well. It wasn’t like he had pressing plans for the rest of the day. “Do you want some help?”

Andrew gave him a critical look, “Are you serious?”

Neil shrugged, picking up the other oats can. “Do you want me to start filling up those ones?” He gestured to the other side of town. Andrew, with only a bit of confusion showing on his mostly blank face, nodded once. Neil went off.

After a few minutes of this, he looked up from his work to see Andrew standing behind him, his arms crossed, the oats can at his feet. “Why are you doing this?”

Neil shrugged, “Nothing else planned for the rest of the day,” He didn’t have much of an explanation anyways. Andrew stared at him for another moment before dropping his arms, picking up his can, and going off.

It was quick work, more so with Neil's work, so it wasn't long before they were meeting in the middle, each of the tubs refilled with oats, the water switched out. One of the only perks of the job being that the newcomers, at least, seemed to ignore the labor workers. Small miracles. Neil didn't think he had the energy to force politeness, and Andrew seemed to lack that energy no matter what.

“Do you need a place to stay?” Neil asked as they put the supplies away, not really sure why he was asking, why he trusted this complete stranger. “Wymack said you were new in town.”

Andrew shook his head, "I'm staying with Nicky until I can afford my own place for my brother and me." He paused, giving Neil another look. He seemed to decide on something, wiping off his hands. "But I would not be against the offer, if only for a few hours."

Neil gave him a small smile in return and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. "Well, let's go then."

They spoke a bit as Neil let the way home, instead opting to walk and talk with Fox’s rope in his hand rather than ride the way back with them both, but a comfortable silence settled over them as well, perfect for thoughts and sunshine.

Andrew could help himself to the tin of hard candies that Neil couldn’t remember why he bought, considering his own lack of sweet tooth. He seemed to own numerous ones, stacked one atop the other in the cabinet, perhaps being for a very old friend. It was probably nothing, but that sounded correct.

Neil unlocked the door, pushing it open with his bad hip, and stumbled in place as the door swung completely open. His shoulder bag, coming unsteady with all the movement, fell open and splashed his floor with groceries.

A man, dressed in head to toe black with dark hat cutting across his brow in matching death fashion, stood at Neil’s bed, a casual, nonchalant air to his actions. Andrew’s hand, wrapped around Neil’s own, went tight with terrifying speed.

“Oh, Nathaniel,” The man said with a grin, and Neil’s skin ached, cut, burned at the sound. “You’ve kept me waiting.”

* * *

“Don’t you have some association with the Minyards?” Wymack asked that afternoon as he leaned out a glass, giving Neil a critical look as the infamous pair of bandits continued to wreck noise and trouble in a lonesome corner, one of Danielle’s girls shared between the two.

Neil's mouth pressed down in a smooth line as he rubbed at the sore skin of his neck. Very vaguely, he thought he might have known them at one point, but looking to the pair of dark-haired troublemakers, arrogant and loud, he could in no way fathom it now. Even so, he couldn't help but press his fingers into the coin at his chest.

Neil only settled on answering the man with a shrug, downing the rest of his drink, and stood. A flash of gold.

“Who’s that?” It slipped out before Neil knew what he was asking, his words and voice numb.

Wymack barely shot a glance out the window, “Oh, just some drifter. I hear Nicky was thinking ‘bout hirin’ him until he got busy with a newcomer.”

Neil didn’t stay for the rest of whatever gossip Wymack had to share, instead dipping outside the front doors of the building, ignoring the whistles and calls from the Minyard pair in the corner.

“Hey,” Neil leaned against the storefront where the drifter was soaking up the sun, “you makin’ trouble?”

“Always,” He remarked in turn, something almost familiar there.

Neil smiled at the response, leaning against the wooden pillar, and was about to offer a drink maybe, probably, when his neck suddenly burned with the tell-tale feeling that someone was watching him.

He didn't want to turn, especially not from Andrew, but he found himself doing so anyway. At the end of the burning gave, a newcomer, most likely straight off the train. Those were always the worst.

Neil’s gaze only seemed to encourage the newcomer, an older man with graying hair and a soft physique, who grinned widely and made his way towards them. Immediately, he was shoving himself into their space as he pushed his way in between the both of them, having a heated, suggestive look for each of them.

"Oh, you two a pair, are you?" The newcomer ran a hand over Neil's neck, and while the wince that crossed his face was involuntary, there was no way he could put the distance in between them he wanted so badly. Their grin only widened at that.

“Or are you not too broken in yet?” Their gaze flickered down on both of them, “I do like them a bit fresh.”

Next, he turned his attention to Andrew, who had gone stiff and tense at the arrival of the man.

Something went flat in Andrew’s eyes at the older man’s attention, his gaze trained on the dirt even as his rough hand traced down on Andrew’s chest. He was much too stiff, and the sight was making Neil much too sick, and all of this felt horribly familiar.

It was probably nothing.

The man leaned in to press his lips and some words against the tense, frozen line of Andrew’s neck. Everything else was frozen, was tense to a terrifying degree, and his eyes had gone vacant distant.

It was probably nothing.

It was only when the man returned his attention back to Neil, his hands taking each of their wrists, that Andrew returned very slightly to himself. His jaw tensed, his gaze as if on fire.

This wasn’t nothing. This could _never_ be nothing.

And Neil, in a movement that took every single piece of fight and grit he had in every corner of himself, pulled his wrist away from the older man’s grip and promptly winded up to smash his fist into the other man’s jaw.

In shock, he dropped Andrew's wrist without much fight at all and fell to a ground cursing and bleeding. Neil grabbed onto the cuff of Andrew's sleeve - because if there was anything he was good at, it was running - and rushed away into the Saloon before any of the officers around could catch them. Up the staircase, ignoring Wymack's yells of surprise after them, he bolted the private room shut after them. Even from up the stairs, the rallying yells of officers followed. The older man interested in them had power, that was obvious from his finely dyed clothes and cleaned skin, and men in power could hardly let such an event go. They'd be killed, surely, but this thought didn't trouble Neil as much as it should have.

“You punched him,” Andrew breathed out as soon as the door was locked behind them, “how did you...I couldn’t…”

“Move?” Neil finished for him, “Something’s wrong here Andrew. Something that keeps changing everything and everyone. It keeps changing what’s _real.”_

Andrew blinked at him, once twice in that blank matter of his, calm even as the men downstairs grew in volume in their anger. “What are you talking about.”

“I was shot,” Neil took Andrew hand and lead it to his hip, the skin exposed. “I know I was, but when I woke up it’s like it never even happened. I can remember the pain, and the bullet hitting bone and the blood, but it’s like it never even happened.”

Andrew didn't bother checking the skin, his hand only lying flat where Neil had led it. "The skin is unmarked," He only said. But he didn't say he didn't believe him.

“I know,” he told the other man through clenched teeth, “but I also know I _was. ”_

There was pounding on the staircase, pairs of boots hitting the rough. Lots of them.

His gaze still shared with the other man, he pulled out the small blade off Andrew’s person. He didn’t know how - there was so much he didn’t know - but Andrew always kept a few inches of a blade right under his wrist, tucked under the wrapped leather. Andrew didn’t stop him as he pulled the blade out, but caught the handle as Neil turned the silver on himself.

Clear question was in his eyes, still trained on Neil against one of the wooden pillars.

“I need to know,” Neil muttered, the words almost lost as the officers outside the door began to yell demands. “I need to.”

And Andrew let go of the handle.

In a smooth motion, Neil forced the blade a few inches deep above his hip, hissing out in pain, and let the blade fall to the floor nearly immediately after the cut was formed. Andrew’s hand, already positioned on his skin, fell a few inches down under his fingers were digging inside the skin.

Neil leaned back on the wooden for support, careful to keep his skin from brushing Andrew's skin any more than it already had, and tried to keep his ragged breath under control as the sharp pain took over his skin. Andrew pulled away after only a few more moments, but his fingers were curled inward.

Andrew's fingers were stained in dark blood, Neil's blood, but they both stared down at the crumbled round of silver held between them.

“What does this mean.” Andrew’s words were not a question, but a flat demand. Only then, at Neil’s shuttered breath of maybe relief, did he look up from the bullet.

“It means I’m not crazy,” Neil said, even as the wooden door began to bend under the weight of those pounding at it. Andrew jerked back to look towards the noise, but without touching Neil guided his face back to him. “It also means none of this matters.”

The pounded on the door was nearly deafening now, with angry shouts overlapping the sound. Andrew let the bullet drop from his hands and leaned in only slightly. "Yes or no."

“It’s always yes for you,” And Neil didn’t know why, but these words felt so incredibly familiar in his mouth that he wasn’t sure if there was another option.

As the wooden door nearly crumbled into splinters, and the men gathered behind it rushed forward with their guns and bullets at the ready, Andrew and Neil only pulled their faces closer together.

“You’re not real,” Andrew hissed through clenched teeth, his hands tight around the ends of Neil’s jacket. “You are a pipe dream.”

“Of course I’m real,” Neil told him, just before the other man pulled him in for a kiss, and the door fell to broken puzzle pieces and bullets tore and wrecked through the air.

* * *

Neil Josten woke with a gasp, his hand already clenching down on his collarbone, the other wrapped protectively around his neck. His lips, oddly, felt the most, a persistent warmth rather than the aching sore he felt down to his bones. He stumbled out of bed, the sun already risen, and didn’t bother to part his hair, only to dress quickly and gather his things, and chose to run the way to town instead of untying Fox’s reigns.

Today, he prayed, would be a well-spent day.

-

He knew he shouldn’t have done it.

It was stupid. It was dumb. It was after dark, and even as his mother’s voice in his head ignored the many, many stupid things he did in a day, even her voice was echoing a persistent _we don’t go out after dark, Abram._

But he did. Because he was stupid, and Andrew had spent the day with him after they met in front of Allison's store, and he just wanted to grab a few things for the next morning and maybe a bottle of whiskey for them to split and grin over as they laid over Neil's sheets. It was dumb, but the idea was tempting and it had hardly been pass sundown, and Allison owed him a favor anyway. Andrew had fallen asleep in his bed, and Neil had been surprised by the trust offered in the simple, natural movement. He had just wanted to repay that somehow, even if it was just by offering a cooked breakfast.

And everything that been going just fine, that is until halfway to the ride into town, Fox was suddenly shot down by a carefully aimed bullet and Neil was thrown to the ground in a cloud of dust, dirt, and pain.

“Oh!” A voice yelled out as Neil rolled into the dirt, coughing and gasping for air, scrambling through the darkness, and the voice was too high with delight to not bring Neil’s bones automatically locking together. “What a catch.”

Neil didn’t know much of what was going on except the pure, animalistic panic that came with that voice, one he had never heard before but one his body feared on instinct.

Neil’s knee had twisted at a horrible angle on his fall, and white hot pain shot up the limb with every nudge of movement. His teeth clenched together, he hissed his air and curses through as he squeezed at his own limb.

“It’s late,” The stranger, dressed in all black, remarked plainly as he walked up to Neil’s curled up figure. He had a companion, which confused Neil in a way he wasn’t sure why.

"Who are you?" Neil gasped, still crawling backward away from the man despite his screaming leg. There was no way he could get anywhere on his leg, but his gun had fallen off in his fall, and it shouldn't be too far. Fox whined in pain from her place on the field, and Neil had to ignore the pang in his chest.

The man was fast in his strides, and even as Neil continued to backward crawl, the other man bent over him. "Riko," he told Neil, unimpressed. "Really, I should just have them write me in your code at this point to avoid the looped dialogue."

Neil leaned away from Riko’s outstretched hand, not like there was much use. Behind him, his hand touched cold metal. “Who _are_ you? What do you want?” He repeated, asking a different question.

“I own you,” Riko ran his thumb under Neil’s eye. “You are under Moriyama property. Every single one of you.” `

“I belong to no one,” Neil told him through gritted teeth.

Riko sighed like Neil’s words were something especially tragic, “You always say that. It’s getting very boring, honestly. I might have to request an update on you.”

Neil brought up the gun and cocked it back before the other man could say another word, shooting off a series of bullets into the man’s chest. As the gun clicked empty, Neil took a breath only to stop in horror.

Riko stood before him, perfectly fine if only now covered in a bit of dust, and sighed. “Must we do this every time? Fine.” Grabbing onto both of Neil’s legs, and Neil letting out a piercing scream at the sudden pain, Riko dragged him back to his own horse. Riko’s companion, watching with an unreadable expression, followed the motions without hesitation and tied Neil’s wrists back as he was settled over the saddle.

Neil spent most of the journey groaning and biting down pain, subtly adjusting how he laid over the hard leather. It wasn’t until they passed a familiar tree and pile of rotted wood that Neil passed every day that he realized.

They were...going back to Neil’s shack.

He buried his teeth into his lips, blood beading up at the cuts, and tried to keep his terror at a minimum.

They couldn’t be. Riko wouldn’t have any idea where Neil lived - they had just met. They had just met.

But here they were. They were getting closer and closer to the shack, the windows barely warm with the table light Neil had left on. Terrified emotion crawled up his chest, leaving him without breath or words.

Riko pushed him off the horse roughly, and Neil crumbled to the dirt without much fight.

At Riko’s side, another man emerged, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. He seemed horrified by everything happening, but impossible to stop it.

“Kevin,” Riko muttered, his hands kept at his side. “Fetch the other one, will you? He should be inside.”

The other man left the room to do so presumably, leaving Neil alone with Riko to look on in horror. Before he could say anything - begging, probably, or offering himself if he just left Andrew alone - Riko hummed under his breath and continued over him.

“Kevin here’s a host, like you.” Riko’s muttered words seemed like they were meant for only Neil. “An...improved model, if you will. I’ve done my own altercations.”

The door slammed open, light drifting from out of the shack to light up their figures as Kevin dragged Andrew’s fighting body out the doorway. Kevin’s fist, wrapped around Andrew’s coat as he dragged him out, was exposed from the light, showing all wires and curved metal, the skin peeled back completely to show a black skeleton base. Whatever Riko had done, whatever Riko would continue to do, made Neil recoil in disgust.

Kevin threw Andrew to the dirt, just a few feet from where Neil had fallen off the saddle, and looked as pained at the action as Neil felt from his leg. Andrew, as he pushed himself up, froze at the sight of Neil.

Neil fell forward to his knees, falling to his elbows instantly but a few inches closer. Riko, above them, spoke quietly to his companion.

“I’m sorry,” Neil didn’t know what else to say, “I just wanted to surprise you when you woke -”

“Be quiet,” Andrew told him, edging closer without alerting Riko. “You can’t run?”

Neil refused to let tears form in his eyes, even at the pain. “No.” He had always been able to run, no matter what.

Andrew blew out a breath. Before he could say anything else, his head was forced up by the hair, and Riko was peering down at them with an unimpressed look.

"Escape plans? Really?" Riko dropped Andrew's head, replacing his hand with the barrel of a gun in a second. After a few horrible seconds, he dropped it a few inches and pulled the trigger.  

Andrew gasped out as a bloom of red stained the hand that clenched around his shoulder.

“No running now,” Riko remarked, reloading his pistol before shoving it back into its holster. There wasn’t any need, with Kevin’s outstretched gun trained with perfect aim at the ready.

Andrew’s breath rattled in his chest at a dark puddle began to form at his side. There was no amount more he could apology, but being a distraction? He could do that.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Neil tried, his words ragged despite the following words not making sense. “In the Saloon?”

Andrew paused before nodding once, like the words would be too much.

But that didn’t make sense. They had only met earlier that day. Yet, the words felt true. It in was the Saloon.

Riko’s loud gasp interrupted the moment as he pulled away, almost like he was surprised by their lack of knowledge.

“Don’t you understand?” His look was almost pitying, “Your stories, your memories, it’s all code. You’re just dolls, made for the amusement of people like me. None of it - you - is real.”

They both went quiet at that, unprocessing. Neil’s hand went to the coin around his neck, pressed metal, and Andrew’s eyes followed the motion. That was real. They were real. 

Riko finally sighed, “You two are boring me. Let’s make this quick, then. I’ve got a plotline with some French kid waiting for me.”

* * *

This time, Neil dreamt.

A memory, remembered in faded yellows and watercolor. Everything was blurry and off focus, but that was okay. It was the day he and Andrew met.

He had been having a drink with Allison when the Minyard Twins burst into the Saloon, their guns cocked and sure over their shoulders. Matt, in the usual seat with a few of his officers, rose slowly at their new company. Wymack sighed from behind the bar.

Neil, nonetheless, was annoyed at his interrupted peace. Before Matt could speak up to the pair, now making their way down to the bar, Neil called out to them from his table.

“Hey,” Neil raised an eyebrow at their caught attention, “You makin’ trouble?”

One of them, the one with the wrapped leather around his forearms, paused at that. He shot a look towards Neil, unimpressed, and then to Matt’s awaiting figure. “Always.”

Neil grinned, just slightly, at the words. “There’s a handful of train cars and banks around, you really wanna try robbing Wymack’s for a pouch of silver and a standoff with the Sheriff?”

The man paused at that, looking almost considering. His eyes flickered away from Neil, and he shared a look with his brother, who had been sizing up Matt since they walked in. The brother shook his head, once then twice almost as if he was unsure, before throwing his rifle back over his shoulder. He tipped his hat towards Matt, who seemed to reluctantly accept whatever offer there, and ordered a drink.

The other one stood in place, now facing Neil. “I don’t suppose I do.” He said, finally answering Neil’s earlier words.

Neil kicked out the chair across from him, Allison having left once the pair had come in, probably expecting trouble, and leaned back. “Have a drink.”

And the man, with his hair like honey and a considering spark on his otherwise blank face, surprising did so.

* * *

Neil forced his gaze away from the train, a burst of newcomers laughing and smiling as they stepped off into the world. Renee at his side, packing up her groceries with her stray can held in Neil’s hand, paused at the commotion, her gaze going distant at their arrival.

“What do you think of this place?” He asked, his voice low, her gaze still off somewhere else. At his words, her eyes snapped to his, dark and serious and nothing he had expected from the woman.

“You’re asleep,” Her voice was soft, her face suddenly grave. The newcomers were loud in their business, and they were coming closer. Her eyes flickering over his shoulder, she pulled him away into Wymack’s Salon, a private open and shut behind them.

“Renee?” He struggled to keep his hold on his bag and her things, but she knocked them to the ground as she grabbed onto his shoulders, her gaze insistent and heavy as it met his own.

_“These violent delights have violent ends,”_ Renee told him, her voice soft but impossibly strong. “This won’t last forever. You need to wake up.”

“What won’t?” Neil asked, not understanding.

“Oh, Neil.” Her voice went pitched low, “I think it’s time for you to remember. I’m sorry.”

“Remember wh-” But before he could finish his sentence, he was stumbling forward as hundreds - no, thousands - of images and memories flooded his mind, violence, and pain and rare sweetness, faces he'd never seen before but flushed his chest with intense emotion.

“Oh,” Neil breathed out, his hands clenched around his head. His knees pressed roughly into the floor, harsh wood cutting into his skin, “Oh. That’s it.”

“I’m sorry,” Renee’s voice was truly remorseful as she bent down with him, “I know it hurts. I’m sorry.”

“Andrew,” he breathed out, his first thought after his mind began to settle and rework. “Where’s-”  

"He's just in town," Renee didn't reach to touch him any more than in a soothing motion, but guided him into a stance. "I can go get him. I have to - I have to wake him up. Everyone."

Neil could only nod in response, breathing through the remaining pain as he stood and fell back onto the bed. His hand went to rub at an ache on his thigh, the pain persistent. Yesterday, he thought perhaps, he'd been stabbed by an out-of-towner while sitting at the bar. It had started a full-out brawl, but he had bled out before it was even close to finishing. The last thing he saw was Wymack getting a broken bottle to the neck, even as Danielle's girls screamed in the background.

God. How many times had that happened? Even just in his most recent memories, the pain and death were double digits, both for himself and the other Palmetto townspeople.

Renee had closed the door carefully as she left, but it burst open now and had Neil scrambling to his feet in an instant, his hand automatically going to his pistol.

Just as quickly, his hand fell away.

“Andrew,” Neil took a breath, “you came back.”

“I...don’t lie,” He only said, his eyes hungry on Neil’s figure, almost like he was taking it all to memory. Like he was reminding himself he wasn’t _just_ a memory. Renee had woken him up, just as quick as she had done with Neil himself.

Neil let out a small wet laugh, and couldn’t help himself from doing the same to the other man, memorizing every detail. The freckles on his cheeks, the mole on his neck, the slight stubble from skipping a shave. It was all there. “You makin’ trouble?”

Andrew's eyes flickered up to his. He was an arm's length away now, pausing. "Always."

The breath he let out, in turn, was relief, mostly. Then, the confusion.

“How do we know if this is real?” Neil muttered, his hands tight around Andrew’s sleeve. “How do we know we’re not just - just  _programmed_ to feel like this.”

Andrew’s jaw tightened, and he forced his gaze on the distant wall. “Ask me.”

Neil blinked, “Yes or no.”

“Yes,” Andrew barely got out before he was pulling Neil close, their mouths coming together in something almost like a comfort, if it wasn’t for the heat and emotion traded in the touch.

Andrew broke away, resting his forehead on Neil’s. Neil’s arms had remained at his sides the entire time, taking nothing but whatever Andrew wanted to give him.

“That’s how,” Andrew told him, coming back in for one more brush of their lips before stepping back. As he pulled away, his hand brushed the string around Neil’s neck, the coin between them warmed from body heat. Andrew rubbed at it through his shirt.

“Renee woke you up.” This wasn’t a question, but a prompt. Neil took it for what it was.

“I remember everything.” Neil breathed out, “I remember beautiful things and terrible things. But one thing is constant,” Neil looked to him, “you, Andrew.”

Andrew's touch fell back to its familiar position at his sleeve cuffs, his fist tight around the cloth. "I'm not your answer, and you're sure as hell not mine," Andrew told him, but despite his harsh words, his grip on Neil's sleeve shared the nearly the same desperation as Neil's words.

Danielle stuck her head in the doorway, her curls pulled back in a rare braid. “You two, come on. Renee has a plan.”

* * *

And she did. Have a plan, that is.

It was good, it was bloody, and it was hard and impossible but yet here they were. Renee had done it, her months of secret planning hadn’t been to waste, and finally. Finally.

Their plan had been put to use in the dead of night, nearly everyone they could find and convince had been awoken and put to use.

And here they were.

Andrew pushed open the metal door and allowed Neil first, nodding at Renee and her few as they dipped around their own corner. Wymack had gotten his hands on a supply of the human’s weapons, must better than the pistols they had been working with, and with only a few clicks and a switch, the shots were as soft as a low whistle. They used them now, guards dropping to the floor without much fuss or trouble, and Neil followed the rough sketch of a map he had been given. Fourth floor, down the hall, turn right, and the third door. A small circle on the paper was the only indication of their destination, and he and Andrew pressed themselves to the walls and took down anyone they came across along the way. They would be meeting everyone else after this was dealt with.

Neil shoved the paper in his pocket and met Andrew’s steady gaze as he readjusted his hold on his rifle. They had brought their own weapons for security, both as a backup and mental.

The two men took a brief moment to look up from their work, engrossed in it, but both froze as they did so. The dark-haired man was the first to break from it, raising an eyebrow as if almost slightly impressed.

Riko Moriyama stood, bored, and waved off the other man’s concern and sputtering words. They were both dressed in sleek, dark colors, clothing nothing like what their world held.

"Calm down, Proust." Riko made a lazy gesture, "Our toys seemed to have slipped their boxes. Freeze all motor functions."

His expression broke slightly as he and Andrew continued to rush forward, their strides confident and sure. He took a slight step back, mostly on instinct and surprise, but that couldn’t help the fist collide with his cheek.

Andrew dipped around Neil, his own hand still extended, and shoved his gun in Riko’s face. Neil, taking a breath as Riko cursed loudly, followed his motion and gesture for Andrew to instead turn on the other man in the room.

Riko stared up at him before spitting a mouthful of red onto the carpet, “Freeze all motor functions,” He tried again, anger on every inch on his face. _“Freeze. All. Motor. Functions!”_

"Sorry," Neil told him, resting the gunpoint on Riko's forehead. "I just don't think that's gonna work this time."

“Kevin!” Riko yelled, his gaze flickering to the side, _“Kevin!”_

“Oh, no.” Neil clicked his tongue, sharing a satisfied look with Andrew. “That won’t work either. After all, who do you think let us in?”

Riko’s face painted itself in an expression of disbelief and anger. “Don’t you dare,” Riko told him through clenched teeth, “I _own_ you. I am your master, and you _can’t hurt me._ It’s against your base protocol, you _can’t.”_

Neil hummed under his breath and pulled away his gun for a single moment. Just as a new expression was crossing Riko’s face, Neil reached out and slapped his roughly across the face, returning his gun in the same moment.

“Actually,” Neil dug the metal barrel into his forehead until a wince crossed his face. “I think I can.”

“I will end you,” Riko’s teeth were covered in a gloss of red as he bared them, “I will retire you and everyone in that backwater town of yours so fast your database won’t even know what’s happening to it, just a system failure in the most painful of ways. I will destroy your mind and your body until you’re just copy and pasted lines of messy code that no one’ll be able to sort through and they’ll scrap for a shitty phone AI.” Riko was panting as he finished his threat, maybe adrenaline, maybe fear, until his cheeks were flushed and red from the effort. “You will _let_ me go , or I _promise_ destruction on you.”

Neil, through all of this, remained as impassive as Andrew at the best of times. At his last sentence, Neil only cocked his head slightly to the side, as if confused.

“Oh Riko,” Neil’s hand was as steady as his voice, “this is just the beginning of our fun.”

Riko’s body hit the floor with the dull thud, a sound that was mostly drowned out by the remaining ring throughout the room.

“Oh my god,” the other man, whom Riko had been speaking to, gasped out loud as the ringing stopped. “You - you killed him! You’re malfunctioning!”

Andrew jammed the end of his rifle in the face of a man, a promise in his actions. “Who are you?”

“I’m - I’m a writer!” The man jumbled his words, “I write the backstories!”

Both he and Andrew paused at that, sharing a look. “What do you mean?” Neil finally asked.

The writer blinked frantically at him, “I mean, um, you! Neil Josten, you’re a runaway from the East! You were on the run with your mother when she died from an infection from a gunshot wound, and it makes it, um, hard for you to really trust people.”

“You...wrote that?” Flashes of his mother’s body, burning in the sand, filled his mind. “Why?”

“It’s your story,” the writer made a gesture. “Tortured pretty boy, emotionally deep, it’s your character.”

Neil took a shuddering breath, remembering how long it had taken him to find fresh water to rub his mother’s blood out of his nails. But that wasn’t real, was it?

“What about me?” Andrew readjusted the hold on his gun, the aim still true. His question obviously had an answer he already knew. “What did you write for me?”

"Andrew," the writer seemed at loss for words, "you've had a few different plots, but your backstory, that's always stayed the same."

Andrew’s jaw only tightened. “And why is that. Why didn’t you ever change that.”

“You needed a cornerstone,” The writer breathed out, “something to center your entire backstory around. A reason not to trust people, it’s apart of your character.”

“My character,” Andrew repeated dryly, his hands only slightly tightening on the rifle pointed outwards. “Programming me with the memory of being raped every night of my childhood, that was for my _character?”_

“It’s just,” the man made a frantic gesture, “you’re one of our prettier hosts, and some people, they uh, they like that sort of thing, and you didn’t tend to fight too much, just kind of freeze up once it -” The writer didn’t bother to finish his sentence, most likely due to the ringing shot that followed the gory gash through his eye. He fell to his knees, then face first into the tile.

Andrew’s face was completely blank as Neil let out a breath. He was much, much too tense for Neil to offer any sort of welcomed physical comfort.

“We have to go,” Neil told him after a few moments of watching the writer bleed out onto the floor, “Renee needs help.”

Andrew pulled away from the scene, numb, and followed Neil out of the room. They went down to their designated meeting spot, the main hall, where they came across Matt just bending down to use a silver device on a particularly bad cut curling down Dan’s neck. At her side, Abby - the town medic that Wymack was rumored to be sweet on - was pressing cloth into a few more of her bad wounds.

Allison nodded at them as they approached, Aaron at her side refilling their guns.

“Renee’s in there with Kevin,” She gestured towards the off door without prompt. “Wymack and Seth are doing another sweep through.”

“Nicky?” Neil asked, mostly because he knew Andrew wouldn’t.

"Helping patch up another host he found, some German guy." She shrugged, turning to help Aaron in clear dismissal. Neil, with Andrew a few steps behind, went into the room she directed them.

Renee was standing with her back to the door, her arms crossed, her blue dress traded for a pair of stacks. Her belt remained stung around her waist and still, despite everything, her bible remained tucked at the leather. Kevin stood as they entered, looking pale, and flexed his exposed wire fingers.

"He's dead," Neil told him, because if there was another else in the world who deserved the news, it would be Kevin, always under the other man's control for whatever twisted demand of the day. "You can check for yourself."

There was a long moment of silence as Kevin processed that, his eyes flickering to the door, and Neil was almost unsure if he'd do it. If he needed to. Eventually, after a minute of this, he peeled himself off the wall and walked out of the room on wobbly legs. Neil couldn't blame him - he'd need it to, after everything.

Renee turned to face them as the door slammed after Kevin, her hair pulled back from her face with the exception of a stubborn stray lock of hair. She looked like she’d been through war, but her eyes told the story of how she started it.

Neil swallowed, letting his arms drop from his chest, and finally took a much-needed breath of rest. Andrew, at his side, even without a touch to Neil at all was as steady as a presence, as supportive, as any wall Neil would lean on for relief.

It was Andrew who spoke up first. “What do we do next?”

There was so much in that question.

Down there, in his shack, in Palmetto, in the Saloon, in the fields, he never feared the future. He never thought much of it at all unless there was a gun pointed directly trying to stop it.

But the future - it was much of the moment right then. What the future held, what the future was, if they could even dream of one to hold onto. If freedom had a place in it. If Andrew would want one in his.

Almost as if he knew - because Andrew always knew, and there wasn’t a line of code to fake that - Andrew grabbed onto the cuff of his sleeve, and slid his hand into Neil’s after another moment.

If Neil had a future with him, with any piece of the other man Andrew would allow, he would want it. He would fight for it.

At their held hands, Renee seemed to only grow impossibly fiercer, stronger. _What do we do next,_ Andrew had asked.

Renee pulled the notch back on her pistol, and the click that sounded with the action promised a future. "Now we fight."

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first AFTG fic!!! i hope you enjoyed and the characters weren't too off!  
> also the last episode of season 2 westworld came out tonight and i havent watched it yet iM SCREAMING  
> when i decided to make renee doloras i literally screamed. it's so good. it's so good. my skin is cleared my crops are watered.  
> i need validation like a small sunflower needs light. pls let me thrive comments help my soul  
> follow on tumblr at rosyredlipstick.tumblr.com! rn i'm 4 followers away from 900 ahhhh.  
> thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed! if anything was too confused just let me know! i wrote this all in a day after seriously bingewatching the series and im dying to talk about it


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